


Sleeping Demons Lie

by kanoitrace



Series: Tumblr Fic [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death In Dream, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanoitrace/pseuds/kanoitrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The First Blade is in his hand, heavy and comfortable and right. And he feels the blood, hot and stick and fresh, sliding down the blade, down the hilt, down his arm, until he's drenched in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Demons Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt by pharocomics: Fiction Friday: Sam and Dean go on a "haunted hayride" one night just for kicks. However, upon riding down the trail, they see something familiar in one of the decorations... and it's Cas, angel wings and all, hanging dead (arms and wings spread and hanging crucifixion-style) above the trail between the trees. HALLOWEEN HORROR TIME, BABY!
> 
> Yes, I'm just now getting to a Halloween prompt... Don't judge me!

For his life, Dean cannot figure out why they're doing some corny, haunted hayride. He 100% blames Sam for this. It's like the kid thinks they don't get enough real hauntings or something.

_But it's fun, Dean._  Bullshit. Fun is pool and beer and babes, not Dean sitting in some crowded tractor bed, freezing his nuts off with pine needs sticking him in the ass.

It's stupid and boring and it grates his nerves, between the being jostled about and the screeching of obnoxious teenagers. The "scares" are so obviously fake that Dean kind of wishes some kind of real monster would come along just to shake things up.

He should know by now to be careful what he wishes for.

The tractor comes to a stuttering stop, and where once there was the obnoxious screeches of enthralled Halloween revelers, now there is silence like death, not even the crickets chirping away in the trees.

A blood-curdling scream echoes through the woods, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, and then the sound of wings. The sound of an angel's wings from above.

Dean looks up, and in the arch made by the joined branches of two trees, there's Cas, trussed up like Jesus Christ himself. Only there's no cross. There's no crown of thorns. There's only Castiel, frailly nailed to sagging tree limbs, trench coat tattered and torn and smeared with blood. Blood that drips down, that plonks onto Dean's cheek, hot and sticky and fresh. And he can't move, doesn't move, too in shock to even breathe because Cas is dead, again. And it's all Dean's fault.

The First Blade is in his hand, heavy and comfortable and  _right_. And he feels the blood, hot and stick and fresh, sliding down the blade, down the hilt, down his arm, until he's drenched in it. Until he's bathed in the blood of the angel that saved him.

He never asked him to save him.

And before him is himself, same face, same hair, but different eyes. Black eyes. Eyes that mock and scorn and  _burn_. Dean remembers the feel of them in his own head. And the demon smiles, a wicked grin meant to maim. And Dean feels empowered.

"He was holding us back. Had to take care of him, Dean. Wouldn't be right now to. After all, it hurt him so to see you this way." The demon is mocking him, but Dean knows it's true.

Cas. Castiel. He would never let Dean stray from righteous. But Dean is not righteous. He revels in the pain, in the carnage, in the mayhem. Castiel had had to die. It was a mercy, really.

He blinks, and the demon is gone, but Dean feels the eyes in his head- the world tinted black, even beautiful Castiel, the blade through his heart as he stares mournfully up at Dean, wanting nothing but to save him even in the end.

* * *

Dean jerks away, the movement so violent that items from the shelf above the bed topple to the floor. Among them is the cross, the cross that Dean can't look away from, the cross that has broken in two from the force of its fall.

 


End file.
